


There's No Crying In Baseball

by StudGenius



Series: Nova and Chantal: Reconciliation [2]
Category: Queen Sugar (TV)
Genre: Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, F/F, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9234188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StudGenius/pseuds/StudGenius
Summary: Chantal is not her girlfriend. Not yet, anyway. So why does Nova feel so possessive? Part 2 of the Nova and Chantal: Reconciliation series, picking up right where "Bubbles" left off.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Mood music: "Push It" - TWENTY88
> 
> "Before I Do" - Sevyn Streeter
> 
> "Facts" - H.E.R.

Five. Nova's discovered her limit - on her couch, on the living room floor where they'd finally slipped out of their clothes, in the kitchen during what was supposed to be a water break, the time that'd started in the hallway and ended on her dresser, and in her bed, where she lies on top of a sweat-soaked comforter with a very soft and very warm Chantal pressed against her back. She's earned big spoon status this morning, Nova's willing to concede that much. It's not anyone else's business if she's spent too many of their nights together drained and sprawled flat on her back to have much of a claim on the position, anyway.

Chantal is awake, and Nova knows that she knows that she's finally up because she can feel her lips curl into a smile against her skin. Those same full lips make their way up the tattoo between her shoulders to the back of her neck, and Nova can't control the way she arches into the touch.

"Good morning." Chantal sighs and scoots closer, her arm tightening around Nova's middle.

"Mornin'."

Chantal's stomach greets them both with a grumble.

"I guess that's one vote for breakfast."

"Mm." She shifts again to bring hips and ass back together and tucks her knee behind Nova's. "What's on the menu?"

Nova knows that how she answers will determine how the rest of this morning goes, but she's got nothing left to give right now, her back is beginning to protest like it's just fully realizing what happened to it last night, and her left thigh is still sore from where a pouncing Chantal didn't exactly stick the landing. Yet and still. "What do you want?"

Chantal's smile is behind her ear now, and she presses a kiss to the soft skin there before answering. "Whatcha got?"

 _A soon-to-be-thirty-eight-year-old back._ "Food-wise, everything you like. Except "real" bacon. I stopped buying that when we...you know."

Nova had inquired after Chantal had told her that she drew the line on healthy eating at turkey bacon. Her response had been to point to herself and say, _"Half Puerto Rican. I don't do pork substitutes."_

"Yeah." The smile is gone now. "I know. I'm sorry, by the way. I meant to tell you that."

She can feel Chantal's face go hot against her neck, and her fingers are pretty aggressively worrying the end of one of her locs now. Nova shifts, mainly to look at her, partly to free her hair from a nervous hand. "Sorry about what?"

"For leaving the way I did. You deserved better than that. And for saying what I said. I know I hurt you." She chuckles, but there's no humor behind it. "And now here we are." She guesses she deserves it. To have to fight for them now like she should have the first time. "He-" She wants to tell Nova that Calvin doesn't deserve her, doesn't appreciate her majesty the way it demands to be appreciated, that he's simply not her, but she knows Nova. It's not going to win her any points, no matter how true. She takes her face in her hands and looks into dark brown eyes, searching for a hint as to what she's thinking. Kisses her. "I'm sorry."

Nova sighs against her lips without reserve, and follows her when she starts to pull back, resting her forehead against Chantal's. She gives a nod in the way of accepting her apology, eyes closed. A tear sneaks out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn't feel like letting go of her lover to wipe it away, and her heart is clinching and flipping too hard for her to bother with pretending not to be emotional when she'd missed Chantal so much it hurt and she'd been sure she'd blown it, no matter how cute Chantal still thought she was. "I-"

She what? Had cried when she'd left? Couldn't even sleep in peace after she'd been able to get the crying under control between trauma haunting Too Sweet's dreams and Chantal haunting hers? Had dialed her number, but had hung up before it could ring? Had regretted playing it cool and letting her walk away because she was much too proud to plead with Chantal to love her, when all she'd wanted since she was a little girl was to feel like she came first to somebody? Had thrown herself all in with Calvin when he came back into her life because she was convinced that, if she put in more effort, it would be as effortless as she and Chantal had been? That she hadn't realized until the day before how stupid that sounded? None of those words can leave her mouth, so she just nods again and kisses Chantal back. "Me, too."

"I can't expect you to be somebody you're not." Chantal wipes away the tear that's cut a silent path down Nova's cheek. "I don't want you to be anyone but you. Even if you drive me up the damn wall."

Nova laughs, headbutts her a little. "Oh, I'ma show you up a wall."

Chantal's smile brings her dimple out of hiding, which puts the cheesiest grin on Nova's face, all 29 teeth (Hello, unremoved wisdom tooth) on display. "Don't threaten me with a good time."

"More of a promise."

"Yeah, well. Promise me you gon' cut them talons, and we'll see what happens."

"I like my nails." Nova runs them up the side of Chantal's neck to cup the back of her head and lightly scratch her scalp. The shiver and moan she receives in response make the flutter in her chest intensify, and she's glad Chantal has closed her eyes because she's sure her own are telling the whole story. This is more than fondness that she's feeling. "You like my nails."

"I like _you_. I also like my walls."

Nova stares at her, then, mouth half-open but not saying anything because there's really no appropriate response to that.

Chantal quirks an eyebrow and smirks at her, taking advantage of that victory to further scandalize Nova. "And speaking of walls, when you gon' let me beat yours?"

Nova's eyes go wide, but she manages to get a word out this time. "Wow."

"You promised."

"I don't believe the words 'beat my walls' came out of my mouth."

Chantal scoffs. "Girl, you don't know what you be sayin' when I'm making you-"

Nova puts her hand over Chantal's mouth, free hand waving between them, then flailing when she licks her palm in response. "You are...incorrigible."

"And right," comes the muffled reply.

Nova sighs. Because Chantal is right. While there had certainly never been any discussion of beating walls in those terms, she _had_ nodded vigorously in agreement with Chantal's suggestion that, if she'd liked what she'd been doing with a toy (that didn't not remind Nova of a fair lollipop) and her g-spot, she should show her what she could do hands-free. In her defense, Chantal had gone right back to sucking on her clit right after she'd said it, looking up at her while she waited for an answer, and Nova had been fairly certain in that moment that she was going to explode into a cloud of dew and glitter when she came.

It's not like she doesn't want to, though, and it's not like her clit isn't swelling at the thought even now. But they'd been together then. Now they're an "us" - whatever that means and doesn't mean - and there's a Calvin, and Nova feels like maybe it should wait until she's got some things resolved. There would be no way to explain away the hickeys and soreness that she knows - that she's anticipating - will ensue. "Ah, let's table that for now. I wanna take care of some things first."

"Alright. But don't make me wait too long. I'm tryna get you pregnant."

"......I'm gonna go start breakfast."

\---------------------------------------------------

Breakfast takes longer than anticipated, as they spend most of it grinning at each other over sweet potato and garden vegetable hash and fried eggs and giggling at whoever looks away first, so Chantal only has time for a quickie in the shower before she's rushing off to Xavier to sit in on a former professor's sociology class. Nova walks her to her car, joined hands swinging between them.

"Whatchu doing later?"

"Gotta pack. Zina and I are driving up to Atlanta tomorrow to see the Padres and the Braves."

Chantal leans back against her Focus, and Nova wraps her arms around her waist. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Ginny Baker's pitching." 

Nova already knows that she has a thing for the young athlete, but that's not the crush that's bothering her in this equation. Zina Archeambeau, with her luscious black curls and curvy hips, has a thing for Chantal. Nova knows it, and she knows that Chantal knows it. The girl hangs onto her every word like Chantal's her own personal El Che, and Nova's caught her following Chantal around the room with her eyes on more than one occasion, receiving only a faux-apologetic smile in response. Nova doesn't like her. And now she's going to be in a car with her...special friend for seven hours heading out of state. "Zina ever get that water heater taken care of?"

"It flooded again last week. She's been staying with me while the dry vac and mold people do their thing."

"Oh."

"Relax. It's not like that."

"I didn't ask."

"But you did." Chantal pecks a kiss on her lips. "I gotta go. Call me later?"

"Sure."

Nova closes the car door for her when she climbs in, but her mind is already somewhere else, conjuring up a dozen scenarios that all end with Zina fucking ~~her woman~~ Chantal. Wondering if they'd already been there and done that and that was why Zina was always looking at her like she'd stolen something when she thought Nova wasn't looking. And _this_ , she thinks, is why she doesn't do commitment. In her experience, someone always ends up hurt, and it's usually her.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

And _this_ is why, around five o'clock, when she finishes submitting her pitch for her story on how lead paint and asbestos in New Orleans schools affected generations of families, she decides to do better than call. Nova stops by. Chantal's Focus is in the driveway, and there's a bottle green Volkswagen Beetle parked next to it like it belongs there. Nova parks on the curb.

Of course, it's Zina who answers the door, dressed in a cutoff AKA hoodie, black basketball shorts, and black crew socks. She looks comfortable. And beautiful. Like someone who'd been Netflix-and-chilling with her ~~girl~~ friend. "Hey, Nova! Long time, no see."

Nova hates the way she grins at her like she knows something she doesn't. "Hey, Zina. Chantal around?"

"She's in the back. Want me to get her?"

"Nah. I got it." Nova will be damned if she needs an escort to walk through Chantal's house.

Zina makes a face, but she shrugs. "Suit yourself." Then she's wiggling her feet into a pair of pink Nikes and picking her gym bag up from Chantal's black leather couch. "Chanie, I'm leaving! And your girl is here!"

 _"Chanie"??_ Nova starts making her way towards Chantal's bedroom before she yells back a reply. Clearly, they need to talk. 

She's sitting in the middle of her bed with her shirt off, half-full suitcase in front of her and clothes all around her, when Nova walks in. "Hey, bae."

"Hey."

She looks up at the dry greeting and the tone of Nova's voice, brow furrowed in confusion and, if Nova's not imagining it, annoyance. "What's wrong?"

"Something going on with you and Zina?"

The look is unmistakably annoyance, now. "I told you. She's staying here. Temporarily. As a friend."

"Just a friend?"

Chantal sets the pair of jeans she's been folding down, giving Nova her undivided attention, because she can see this going wrong quickly if she let's Nova get any deeper into her feelings. "I'm not sleeping with her, if that's what you're asking. And you ask a lot of questions for someone with a whole-ass cop boyfriend who doesn't know he's being replaced, yet."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you moved on with your life after we stopped seeing each other, and so did I."

"With Zina?"

"Nova, look." Chantal pinches the bridge of her nose, then brings her hand back to flip the hair out of her face. "When we broke up, she was there. We took it a little too far one time, but that was it. So, yeah, we are 'just friends,' now."

"'Now.'"

"You're cute when you're jealous."

Nova doesn't say anything, but she looks, and Chantal's smile only ups her agitation. "I'm just trying to make sure you're serious about this."

"Do you trust me?"

Her first instinct is to say no, to push Chantal away and say fuck it. She's feeling vulnerable, exposed and wide-open, and she hates it. The truth refuses to work it's way onto her tongue, though, and she knows she's taken too long to answer because Chantal's standing up, and, God help her, she can't stop her eyes from drinking up the sight. Chantal's coming closer, heavy breasts swaying with each step, stomach muscles flexing with each breath, joggers sitting low on her hips, exposing silky smooth brown skin where underwear would usually be. It makes Nova's mouth water, and by the time she manages to bring her attention back up to her face, Chantal is standing toe-to-toe with her.

She cradles her face in her hands, and Nova melts into her touch despite herself. "How are we going to do this if you don't?"

"I didn't say no."

"You didn't say yes, either."

"Don't go to Atlanta."

"That's not going to stop me from fucking Zina." Nova tries to jerk her head away, but Chantal holds on. "I only want you. _That's_ what's going to stop me." She kisses Nova's cheek. "And you have your own situation to deal with."

"That's going to take some time."

"Well, lucky for you, then, I'll be gone 'til Tuesday."

Nova groans. "It's Wednesday!"

"It's a series."

She wraps her arms around Chantal, then, drawing her in until their breasts press together and Chantal's pressing her hips forward out of habit. "Don't go."

The answering laugh is husky, halfway between desire at the feel of Nova's strong arms holding her so tightly and amusement at the puppy-dog eyes she's trying to work on her. "Nova. I'm going. You...have some important decisions to make. This way I won't be there to distract you."

"Maybe I want to be distracted."

Chantal would be lying if she said making the formidable Nova Bordelon come as close as she ever has to begging doesn't give her a rush. "Don't worry. I won't do anything you wouldn't do."

She just hums in response because she knows she's teasing, but Chantal is right, whether she knows it or not; she wouldn't do anything to mess this up. And when she walks her backwards to the bed, pushing her back onto the mattress, unpacked clothes and all, and tugs her pants off, it's as much about giving her something to think about while she's gone as it is about her not being able to get enough.

Nova wants to stake a claim on her, teach her body where home is, make Chantal hers the way her instincts tell her to, and she gets too caught up in trying to make her repeat the squeal she lets out when she dips her tongue inside of her to be freaked out by everything she feels or care that they're still going when Zina comes back.

**Author's Note:**

> This was fueled in large part by the feels that hit me when I finally noticed that Nova's crying when Charley pops up at her house in Episode 11. Tryna get Charley to talk to me for part 3. :-o


End file.
